Left and Right
by AbbyTheBlue
Summary: Sam and Dean come across several victims who were said to be in two places at once before their sudden deaths, and they find a rather unusual case before them when Dean is split into two people based on two contrasting ends of his personality. Includes lots of Destiel and sexual innuendos. (Profile Image not mine)
Sam tossed the file on the table as he stepped into the large dining room of the bunker, where Dean was sat in front of a burger on a paper plate. He swung into the seat beside him.

"Rogersville, Illinois." He said, crossing his hands over the table. "People have been reported to have been in two places at once, and then mysteriously died after. Not to mention the continuous cases of mystery identical twins that they just discovered who were alive in looks but astronomically different in personality." Sam explained. "I'm thinking we've got a case."

Dean cast the file on the table a look of disgust before turning his eyes to his burger. "Dude, can't I at least have lunch?" He asked him, irritated. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess. But still, it's a little odd, don't you think?"

Dean shrugged. "I never said it didn't sound like a case, I just said I was gonna have this first." He said. Sam sighed and stood up to pack what they may need as Dean lifted his burger and took out a large bite.

The case was an odd one.

Sam and Dean were able to prove that the people were indeed in two places at once; in fact, all facts lead to the idea that they had suddenly become two different people. Few patterns could be made, but often one side would be somewhere crazy like a strip club while the other was doing extra time at work. It wasn't a demon; they found the doppleganger of a man named Walt Johanson and did the whole test to make sure he was entirely human. Seemingly even odder both the doubles would die at the same time and be brought into the morgue with the same cause of death and the same markings. They called them twins, but Sam and Dean knew they didn't actually believe it.

One of the few constants they could find was the fact that they'd all gone to an old theater recently called The Rogersville Players. One of them was an actor, one of them was picking up a friend, one of them was a janitor, etc. So, with seemingly no other clues, the brothers went to the old theater after it was closed up, guns blazing.

It was a nice old black box. It was incredibly small, with seats that went up high and a stage that rested on the floor and was only about the size of a small-ish living room. In fact, watching a show there would probably be like watching a show in someone's living room. The green room was full of old costumes and posters and props and painted in various colors and mirrors and lights. The set was only partially up at this point, as they must have been between show, and various planks and structures of wood lined the stage. Slowly, Dean and Sam stepped in and flicked on the lights.

As they always were, they were cautious. They stepped slowly into the well-lit, good-condition theater, and kept their guns out.

"I'll check the green room." Dean said softly to Sam. Sam nodded back and continued through the staged area. Dean slipped behind the curtain and into the darkness. There was little light back there, and various things to crash into; several of which he did. He managed to hit several buckets of paint, a ladder, and the curtain itself while cursing about these 'damn theater people' before he actually made it to the door to the greenroom.

He winced when he flicked on the light. It was an incredibly bright room, with circular lights lining mirrors along the walls and glowing lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. as his eyes adjusted to the light, he took a few more cautious steps forward to the opposite wall. He softly ran his finger along the off-white wallpaper, to make sure nothing was hidden, until he saw a light out of the corner of his eye. He turned around to see it, and felt his body unable to move as it glowed a brighter and brighter white.

Sam was examining behind the intricate wood structures when he saw his brother emerge from behind the curtain. He turned around.

"Find anything?" He asked hopefully. Dean shook his head.

"Sorry, there's nothing back there. You?" Sam shook his head as well, lowering his gun.

"We must have missed something," He said.

"Must've," Dean agreed. "Maybe we should go through the vics again, make sure we didn't miss any links."

Sam nodded. "Let's go, shall we?" He asked. "I'm starved."

"It's only 12:00," Dean rebutted. Sam gave him a sideways glance.

"You're saying you're not hungry?"

"Not right now, no." Sam's eyes rolled suspiciously over him for another moment before he turned to head out the door.

"Whatever man, I say we discuss this over a burger."

Dean shrugged. "Fine with me."

The two brothers headed out the door of the theater, getting into the impala. Little did they know of the other Dean who was also emerging from the back doors…

Up in heaven, Castiel suddenly received a very bizarre message he knew was from Dean. Only, it wasn't exactly a message. Usually Dean would pray something like "Get your feathery ass down here" or "I need you" or the occasional odd message that he still couldn't quite decipher, but this was different. Somehow, he managed to send a full message not involving words at all. All he got was a series of colors and feelings, flowing into his mind one by one, that communicated wordlessly that he was needed, and where he was. He had never gotten a message like that before. He didn't know it was possible.

He appeared in the parking lot, finding Dean looking up to the sky in desperation. His face lit up when he saw him, and he turned around to face him.

"Dean, you could have just asked for me to come down." He said. Dean gave a casual shrug, but still didn't speak. Castiel creased his eyebrows as he saw what was wrong with him.

"What's happened to you? You're only… half of you." Dean shook his head and looked down, expressing that he had no clue.

"Can you speak?" Cas asked. Dean shook his head honestly, tucking his thumbs in his pockets, but oddly enough there didn't seem to be any panic behind his eyes. Cas looked away for a moment in thought. "One moment," He said. Then, he vanished for about five full seconds, before returning again, holding a pen and a small notepad he'd found in the green room of the theater. He handed them to Dean.

"Here. Let me know what you need from me." He said, handing them to Dean. Dean took the notepad and scribbled on it with the pen for a few moments before handing it back to Cas. Castiel raised his eyebrows, viewing what Dean had handed back to him.

He had expected writing, but alas, that was far from what he got. Instead was a picture of the bunker, so incredibly precise that it looked like a photograph in black and white. Every detail, every bit of shading was perfect. There was even a flock of birds overhead.

"Uh, okay," he said. Tucking the notebook and pen in his pocket, he touched Dean on the forehead with one finger and brought him to the bunker.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam got themselves seated at a diner that was just beside the hotel they'd be staying at. It was a little grimy, but looking around, the food people were eating seemed good. They sat themselves in a corner and pulled out the laptop, which Dean placed in front of him for once. He stared intently at the screen, unusually interested.

"Okay, so whatever this is, so far we have five apparent vics. Maya Samson, Walt Johanson, Taylor Jenkins, George Maybin-"

As he went through the victims, the waiter walked up with her little notepad in hand. "Hello, may I take your order?" She asked pleasantly. She was round-faced with rosy cheeks and flirtatious brown eyes laced with thick black eyeliner. She was fairly short with ponytailed hair and objectively quite busty. It was no opinion that she was good looking. Even Sam had to hold back a little to not flirt.

"Uh, yeah, the burger plate thanks," He said, giving her a quick, genuine smile.

"Just coffee, thanks. Anyway, as far as connections, they were all in a relationship, they were all-" Sam looked at him in bewilderment as the waitress walked off to the other tables. He didn't even _look._ First he wasn't hungry, then this. Sam was starting to think something had happened in that theater.

"Only one of them was in a gay relationship, the rest of them were straight-"

"Dude," Sam scoffed. Dean looked over his computer.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" He replied genuinely. Dean creased his eyebrows.

"Of course I'm okay." he replied. "What would make you think I wasn't?"

"Well, first you're not jumping on any red meat that's close in your vicinity, _and_ you hardly even _looked at_ that waitress."

"Why would I look at her?" Dean asked, confused.

Sam leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice as to not be rude. "Because that's what you do Dean, it's practically part of your personality that you look at good looking women."

Dean turned his head to see the waitress, who was now facing away and talking to the other tables (and in case Sam didn't mention, her ass wasn't bad either). He looked for a long time before giving a casual shrug and turning back to Sam.

"Eh," He said.

"What, seriously?"

"I guess she's easy on the eyes. Honestly, it's not really my priority, Sammy."

"Since when?"  
"I dunno! Can't we just… focus on the case?" He said, a tone of annoyance seeping into his voice. Sam leaned back, still shocked at his brother's out of character behavior.

"Yeah." He said finally. "Ok. The case. But first, one thing." Sam moved the laptop aside and pushed forward his napkin to Dean. Then he pulled out a pen and placed it on the table. An idea was starting to form. It was a long shot, but it would make sense.

"What's this?" Dean asked.

"Draw something. A… house, I guess."

"Why?"

"Just do it. It's a long shot but I want to test something." Finally, Dean cast Sam a suspicious glance and picked up the pen. He kept the napkin in place with his left hand and began to draw with his right. Although, he was rather confused when he was finished with his sketch, for this is what he got:

 **House**

He creased his eyebrows as Sam leaned back in satisfaction. "Hang on, let me try again," he said. Again, on the same side of the napkin, he attempted to draw a quick sketch of a house. But yet again, he found himself with this:

 **House.**

He growled softly in irritation and turned over the napkin. For a few more moments he furiously scribbled across it until he had a napkin that looked something like this:

Finally, after the napkin was entirely covered in the word 'house', as he was unable to draw one, he leaned back in defeat.

"Just as I thought," Sam said, looking at the napkin. He looked up at Dean. "I think people's right and left brains are being separated."

Castiel was admittedly very concerned about dean, or at least, this part of him. It wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong with him, now all he had to do was explain it. As soon as Dean found himself in the bunker's living room, he flopped down across the cough and put his feet up on the coffee table. Castiel stood across from him.

"Alright, Dean. So, it's true that you can't write or speak, but you can draw what you want to communicate?" he checked. Dean looked away for a moment in thought, before giving an honest look and nodding.

"Alright, one more thing. What's five times five?" Dean then leaned forward and creased his eyebrows, putting one ear forward, like Cas was suddenly speaking in a foreign language. "Five times five, a math problem?" Cas hinted. Dean's eyes passed around the room in thought, before he simply shook his head. Nope. Not doing that.

Cas nodded, now sure his conclusion was correct. "Alright, Dean. I think I've figured out what's happened. It turns out that there was something in that theater that is splitting the right brain of a person and the left brain into two separate pieces. You are just the right brained side, thus your lack of language and math skills and enhanced drawing and…" He trailed off, giving Dean a confused look. All this time he had been staring at him with a contented, almost suggestive smile. "Why are you staring at me, what do you want?" He asked.

Dean didn't pull his eyes away for a moment, before gesturing at his pocket. Cas was confused for a moment, before recalling the pen and notebook he was holding onto. "Ah," He said, looking down and pulling them out of his pocket. He stepped forward and handed them to Dean, who quickly took them and began scribbling away. A dark smirk passed over his face as he drew, occasionally raising his eyebrow or biting his lip. When he was finally done, he turned it around to Cas and handed it to him.

Cas looked at it for a moment, before he went tomato red and his eyes opened up wide and he smacked it down on the table. He looked around nervously. "That's not appropriate, Dean." He said, swallowing. Dean gave an obvious wink.

"Dean, we have to find your left mind and recombine you two as soon as we can." He said. "Have you noticed that these people tend to die soon after they're separated?"

Dean glanced away, a look of clear worry projecting along his face. He did know, and it scared him. He nodded slightly like a kid who'd got caught broken the rules.

"Okay, so, we have to find your other half." he said. Dean nodded, determined, lifting his feet off the table and thumping them down on the ground.

"Okay, so, we need to start with where you were both combined last. That would be the theater. Then we need to consider…" Dean's eyes slowly blurred out of focus and went from looking intently at Cas to staring somewhere at the wall behind him, tuning out completely. His head swam with colors and he could hardly even hear Cas' voice at all.

"Dean!" Castiel jolted. Dean startled back into focus, giving Cas a curious look. "Have you listened to any of this?" He thought for a moment before honestly shaking his head. Cas sighed.

"Alright… I guess I'll just start over." He said. Dean rolled his eyes and flopped back down on the couch and propped his legs back up on the table. Only this time, as Cas spoke, he got an idea. He gave a wide smirk and settled in, putting his chin to his chest and crossing his arms. He shut his eyes and focused on making the connection with Cas.

"He's probably with Sam, otherwise you would be the one who-" he stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide and locking on the wall behind him. He was receiving those prayers from Dean again, no words, only images. Very… detailed images. Dean chuckled silently to himself as he opened one eye to see his reaction.

"Dean, what is the meaning of this?" he asked lowly. Dean raised his eyebrows, but continued the message. Cas swallowed, and more and more horror and confusion continued to seep into his eyes. His voice began to go high-pitched.

"I don't think human biology would allow that, Dean!" He squeaked uncomfortably. A wide smile spread over Dean's face and his shoulders shook with laughter. When he was finished laughing, he opened his eyes softly. Cas was still staring into space, a look of sheer shock and confusion on his face. Quietly, Dean stood up and stepped over to Cas. He put his hand to his face, and, with no hesitation, leaned in and kissed him.

"Dean, what are you doing?!" Cas demanded, pulling away. Dean didn't back away, maintaining hard eye contact. He projected his thoughts into Cas with his eyes, which couldn't be described as an image or a series of words. It was just a burning and flickering and pulsing like a breathing fire. Like temptation. Cas bit his lip. He didn't move when Dean leaned in again and kissed him hard on the mouth. And, ignoring all logic, he kissed back.

"So, I'm only the left-brained side of Dean?" The left Dean double checked with Sam. They had checked into a hotel, where they could evaluate the situation. Dean thought for a moment, nodding.

"Well, that would explain my lack of sexual interest and ability to draw. Not to mention lack of emotion, which I've been noticing recently." Sam nodded.

"Yeah, it all makes sense. I just don't know what could do something like this."

"Seems sort of god-like to me. I'm not sure why they'd do it, but I think we'd have to be looking at something more powerful than a demon or run-of-the-mill monster. Too repetitive to be a trickster and too abstract to be an angel, so it would have to be something we've… ah…" Suddenly Dean hissed in pain, his hand rushing to his mouth and his jaw opening. He stopped for a moment and ran his tongue around his mouth. "What the Hell…?" He whispered.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"My lip's bleeding…" Dean said, immediately considering the possibilities.

"Did you bite it?"

"No…" he replied. "A-ah!" suddenly his left hand reached up and smacked the top of his right shoulder, as he tipped his head away from it. "Ow…" He hissed.

"What now?" Sam asked, concerned.

"My neck…" Dean tried to turn his head around and see what what hurting him as he lifted his hand, but it was too close. Finally, he turned to Sam and lowered his hand. "Is anything there?" He asked.

Sam just stood there, his eyes gone wide and his mouth glued shut. "Um…" he said.

"Is something there?" Dean asked again, at the same tone he had before, without a note of panic.

"Um… yeah, something's there…" Sam said, bewildered.

"What?" Dean asked genuinely. Sam heaved a heavy breath before telling Dean the honest truth.

"It is a hickey." He confessed bluntly.

"A what?!" Dean demanded.

"I guess your right brain wanted some action." Sam said through a bit of a wince.

Dean sighed, letting his arm fall. "That's disgusting…" He mumbled.

"Oh come on, not disgusting. It's natural." Sam insisted.

"Not interested," Dean reminded him. "Wherever my right brain is, he got all the sex drive for the both of us and now it just seems…" He gave a slight wince. "Uncomfortable."

Sam rolled his eyes and got out his laptop, sitting down on one of the beds in the hotel and opening it up, beginning to research. Grudgingly, Dean did the same, wincing and keeping his hand to his neck. "Dammit…" he hissed softly to himself. "What kind of hooker goes this rough…?"

The other Dean on the other hand had appreciated every single one of those red marks that were identical on his own shoulder. In fact, he appreciated all of it. And when it ended, he lay panting on his bed, naked and satisfied under the covers with his hands behind his head. He panted softly, a soft smirk over his face. Cas was laying beside him, his lips pursed and his eyes turned down in embarrassment.

"That was very inappropriate, Dean." He said softly. "I'm… not sure what came over me." Dean just smiled widely and cast him a sideways glance as Cas continued. "It can… probably be explained by your lack of left brain, I mean… it has been proven that sharing emotions can be easier in the right hemisphere and it would be easier to send something more abstract through angelic telepathy, something like desire, for instance." He explained thoroughly. Dean propped himself up on one elbow and raised his eyebrows sarcastically at Cas, letting him know he knew he was full of shit. Cas blushed.

"I never would have taken part in anything like this if it weren't for this… abnormality." he insisted. Dean smirked continually, refusing to give into his ideas. He sent him a few images of the moments before, the moans and sighs to remind him he enjoyed it.

"That… was all part of the telepathy." Cas lied, looking away and letting himself blush. Dean rolled his eyes and let himself flop down on the bad again. Cas softly slipped and out picked up his clothes off the floor, putting it all back on up to the trench coat.

Dean propped himself back up in protest as he began putting on the top layers. His eyes crinkled in desperation as he looked up at Cas, seeming to pull him back.

"We can't again, I would already be surprised if heaven let me back in!" Cas insisted in a harsh whisper. But Dean shook his head and projected a different image into his head. A more innocent image, and a more innocent feeling. Cas' eyes softened for a moment, before he looked away and put on his tie.

"No, Dean, I shouldn't be doing any more of this. All of this was a mistake." He told him. But when he saw Dean, there was such a look of heartbreak in his eyes, such a look of gentle pleading.

"Now that's just cheating…" Cas whispered weakly. But nonetheless, Dean won over. Cas pulled himself back into the bed (after insisting Dean put on some pants) and they laid there together. He let Dean snuggle up into his chest and shut his eyes there in his radiating warmth. The guilt of doing all this with who was supposed to be his friend alone was still gnawing at his mind, but (and he couldn't tell if it was intentional or just a byproduct of his peace of mind) Dean was sending him rhythmic waves of comfort that continued to soften his guilt. It was actually kind of nice.

Of course, other Dean was still on the job.

"I think I've got something." He told Sam, turning around his computer. "The greek god Janus, known for his two faces. He was said to divide people down into their most animal form and their most civilized form and lead one to its death."

"Does it specify which one?" Sam asked, leaning over to see the article and the picture. Dean shook his head.

"Whichever goes first, I guess." He said. They both sighed, slightly distraught, as they looked at the screen.

"Well, whatever it is, it must be at that theater," Sam said, leaning forward. Dean nodded.

"Definitely. But we should probably do a little more research, and get some sleep so we're at our best when we try to hunt him." Dean said.

"You could just say you're tired," Sam said, rolling his eyes and starting to miss right Dean. Dean shrugged.

"I guess," He said. He shut the computer and put it over on the table, before walking back to his bed. He leaned back quickly, his beside his waist as he fell back. But, as he flew backwards, the small vase of white flowers flew to the side and shattered across the ground.

"Ah, shit!" He hissed, sitting up on his bed. He sighed heavily, bending over to pick up the shattered glass.

"Psh, smooth," Sam snickered.

Dean shook his head, putting the glass carefully in his hand. It was the most logical explanation that he'd made a mistake, but looking back he didn't remember touching the vase at all. "I don't think that was me," he confessed. As he turned his hand slightly, a piece of glass on the bottom sliced him clean across the palm. He hissed and swore, the cut burning in pain, and dropped the glass all over the floor again. He grabbed his injured hand with his other tightly, wincing and trying to stop the bleeding. "Ah, fuck…" He winced. "I'm gonna need something to put this glass into."

Dean pressed himself softly into Cas' chest, his eyes fluttering closed. His mind swam with peace, the blankets and his angel friend warming him. Suddenly, though, he could feel a sharp, shrieking pain cross over his palm, burning into his skin, and he could feel the sheets below it get wet. He struggled to sit up, gasping with panic. He pulled himself suddenly out from under the covers, pulling up his hand to find it coated in blood. Cas looked over at him, and then saw his hand. Dean's breath began to quicken as he looked at Cas in desperation, demanding to know what was happening.

"Your left brain must have cut himself and given you the same mark," Cas explained, softly taking his hand. Dean pulled away from his grip nervously, but Cas held on firmly to his wrist. Slowly, the panic in his eyes dimmed. At least he had a reason now. Still, his shoulders raised up in concern.

He sent Cas a message in fearful questioning as he bit his lip. It was an image of himself, sprawled across the floor and soaked in blood, dead. Cas' eyes sank and he hated to give him to the answer. "Yes, that would happen to you too," he said softly. Dean swallowed.

Slowly, though, he pulled himself together. He sat up straight and nodded, holding his hand and hissing softly in pain. He nodded again and pulled himself back into bed, not caring that the blood was still soaking the sheets.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked. Dean sent him his intention more in a feeling than a direct image; a soft pulsing of dark colors that represented sleep. "Now?" Cas asked. Dean didn't respond, just settled down into the blankets and was almost immediately asleep. Castiel sighed and started to pull out of bed, before he felt a hand snap around his wrist. He looked down and saw Dean, his eyes still closed and his arm out around his. Cas sighed again. Dean was odd this way, and it was clearly unnatural and couldn't remain. But it would have been nice if he showed a little of this side a little more often.

Still, he missed his voice.

Grudgingly, he tucked himself back under the covers and let Dean lean against him and fall asleep.

"Yes, but after we sleep, we find the other Dean. I'm afraid I can't even recognize him, so I can't go now. I hardly even knew you when you sent me that message." He explained. Getting no response back, he figured he must have already fallen asleep.

After he had picked up the last of the broken glass, Dean settled down to sleep, with Sam in the bed across from him. He lied there for a long time, but it was hard to get to sleep. He wasn't tired. Just like how at lunch, he wasn't hungry. _I suppose that would make sense_ , he thought. Janus separated the civilized from the animal, so his most basic instincts and needs would be gone. Sex. Food. Sleep. It wasn't hard to see why these people didn't take long to die. In the middle of the night he pulled himself out of bed to do a little more research, and learn some more important clues about beating Janus. Finally, though, he managed to go off to sleep.

Nearly as soon as they both woke up, they got into the impala and returned to the theater. This time, Sam stayed beside Dean and was far more cautious. Dean was fairly safe; you couldn't double separate someone. But Sam was still in danger.

They did the same thing they did last time; Dean going off to the green room while Sam stayed in the stage. Dean stepped slowly through, as he did last time, going to the other side of the room, before he saw the blinding light behind him.

Castiel and Dean left just about the same time Dean and Sam did. They appeared outside the theater. "Alright, Dean," Cas said, looking to the theater, a few dozen yards off. "I'll go in and see if there's any warding or demons spells. Just give me a few minutes." He said, and then quickly vanished. Dean raised his eyebrows about to send him something, but stopped and sighed, meandering around the parking lot. Slight annoyance beat in his head. Just because he was only half of him didn't mean he was suddenly helpless.

As he turned boredly around the pavement around him, something caught his eye. He peered into an alley and found a bag of Big Gerson's takeout sitting there. He smiled. Mm, food. He was hopelessly drawn in by the identity of the bag he knew so well. He stepped into the alley and investigated the bag

"Put your hands up!" Someone called.

"I know it's you, Janus." He said, wincing at the light. "You can quit the act, I've already _been_ split in half!" Slowly, as though it had listened to him, the light dimmed.

As Sam, having heard Dean ran into the other room, Janus' form came slowly into view. He was fairly thin and short, in a deep black suit and a green tie. he had scraggly brown hair that lead down into a beard. he had a sharp, pointed nose, dark, squinted green eyes, and thin crusted lips curled into a smile.

"Dean," He greeted. His voice was suave, but his a tone of nervousness, and his other voice sounded identical. That's right, his other voice. As one mouth moved, two voices spoke the name of Dean simultaneously. He casually turned his head, looking up at the posters on the wall, to reveal a second face on the back of his head, smirking in the other direction. It looked exactly the same as his other, only more ravenous, less logical. As was his style.

"Or, half of him, anyway." both of his faces said. Sam's eyes widened in surprise, but Dean wasn't taken off guard.

"Janus," He greeted casually, crossing his arms. "You're the one who's been killing all these people,"

"And you," he said. This time, only the face on the front of his head spoke, which he turned back to face them.

"Right," Dean said. "Nice try, but I know what you really are," He recalled the research he had done last night.

"And what's that?" he asked.

"A witch. With a big ego." He said. He gestured to his left hand, which was tightly enclosed around a small brown bag. Janus nodded down to his hand, briefly revealing his second face, before looking back up. "What, this?" He asked, holding it up. "I barely have to use it. It's just for screw-ups. Most of what I do is far less obvious."

"Like what?"

"Like this."

Dean looked up rapidly to see a man with a gun held in a shaking hand in all dark clothes. "Give me your money!" He demanded. Not thinking, Dean immediately drew the gun, which he kept in his inside pocket, and prepared to fire. Unfortunately, the other man didn't have to draw and had a head start. He shot thoughtlessly and the bullet hit Dean in the gut. He gasped in pain and fell weakly to his knees, his arms wrapping around his stomach.

"Oh my god, I actually shot someone…" The robber whispered, his eyes widening in shock.

Suddenly, back in the theater Dean felt a piercing pain in his stomach, and he asped in pain. Slapping his hand over it, he found that he was dripping with blood. He groaned softly before falling to his knees. "Sam… the hex bag…" He managed out. Sam's eyes locked onto the bag in Janus's hand for a split second, before he ran towards him. Janus held out a hand and pinned him helplessly against the wall. He smirked. Both of his faces. Little did he know that Sam was making the call.

Before Janus knew what was happening, Castiel appeared to the side of him and sliced his head clean off. Sam's eyes widened as the blood splattered across the room.

"Quite the entrance, Cas." he said.

"It hasn't killed him," he responded seriously. Without turning to Sam, he forced the hex bag out of his now cold hand and looked over to Dean, who was now breathing more and more heavily and wobbling as though he were about to collapse. Cas rushed over to him and forced the bag into his now loosening hand. It suddenly started to emit a powerful white light that made everyone else in the room avert their eyes. Dena's figure couldn't be seen through the blinding light.

The robber's eyes go the size of ping pong balls when the figure he had shot exploded into a white light and then imploded back into nothing. He stood there for a while in silent shock.

Sam and Cas winced and looked away until finally the light dimmed away, and Dean still kneeled in the middle of the room. Without waiting another moment, Cas hurried up and touched him on the shoulder, healing the shot wound in his stomach. Dean sighed heavily in relief. He swallowed.

"Thank you," he said.

"Is it-" Sam began to ask.

"All of me?" Dean asked, looking up at him. "Let me check." he stood up and grabbed a scrap piece of paper and a pen in a cup off of a messy table and created this:

Dean grinned widely. "Ha!" He shouted. "Take that you stupid house!" Sam chuckled softly. It was good to have Dean back. The rest of him, anyway.

"So, just curious," Sam began, leaning against the wall, and crossing his arms. "What's it like, all… recombined?"

"Well, all my memories are a little fuzzy." He confessed. "It's sort of weird cause everything's overlapped. I remember studying and cutting my hand on the glass, but I also remember being with Cas and-" He stopped abruptly. His eyes bulged the size of golf balls as he looked straight forward, his face going tomato red. The more he waited, the more… _detailed_ the memories got. Oh god.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. Dean didn't answer, just turned to face Cas, giving him an awestruck look.

"I tried to tell you it was a mistake," Cas confessed. He squinted at Dean for a moment, unaware that he was supposed to be inhibited. "I had no idea you'd be so dominant." He said.

Dean's eyes got somehow wider as he immediately turned away and raised his shoulders, hurrying out the door. Sam stood curiously up off the wall. "What?" He demanded, knowing he hadn't heard what he thought he heard. " _What_ did you say?"

Cas didn't answer him. He turned around as Dean walked off to face the door. He knew they'd better get out of there, Janus wouldn't stay there forever. Not to mention he fully intended to follow after Dean himself. He let a smirk pass over his face as he walked after him out the door. The Dean he'd been with the night before was still in there, and he knew he wouldn't be hidden forever.

Cas was gonna get what was right,

And he knew he wasn't gonna get stuck with what was left.


End file.
